He wanted it because he loved Theo.
The knowledge, which had been dancing at the edges of his consciousness for a while now, settled on him, a strange weight. He could not say he welcomed it—not when he was sure his feelings were unrequited—but there was something good about it. A sense of having learned something important, however painful it may prove to be in the long run.
“Can you imagine?” Theo continued, unaware of George’s tumultuous feelings. “What must it be like to lose someone after all those years together?”
“As painful as that would be,” George said quietly, “It doesn’t undo the years they had. The happiness they shared.”
Theo met George’s gaze and his own was uncertain. “Perhaps,” he murmured. “At any rate, I wish I’d known the first time I came here. Hell, I wish I’d known when my uncle put me in his will.”
“If he’d spoken to you before you left for the Continent, do you think you would have done anything differently?”
Theo frowned. “I don’t know. Perhaps if I’d known before I went away, it would have changed how I used the bequest from my grandmother.” He grimaced. “I’d never imagined a day would come when I would really need that money. It’s galling to think about now, when I no longer have it. And to remember what I spent it on.”
“There are other ways of getting money,” George pointed out. And this, he realised, was his moment. Taking a deep breath, he added, “I could give it to you.”
Theo had been staring at his wine glass, but at this, his gaze snapped up, brows snatching together. “What? No! I could never take your money!”
“I just meant that I could lend you some,” George added quickly.
“No, George! Absolutely not. The very last person I want to borrow money from is you!”
George felt oddly stung. The very last person?
“Why?” he asked. “I can easily afford it, and I want to help you. It would be a loan, not a gift. We’ll have proper legal papers drawn up and?—”
“I’ll tell you why,” Theo interrupted, “though you know as well as I do. With the rents Blackfriars gets, it’ll take me years to pay you back. That’s hardly an investment for anyone, George. You can do a lot better with your money than that.”
“What could be better than helping a friend?”
Theo didn’t answer the question, but his expression was closed and determined. George had known he would be resistant, but he hadn’t expected quite this level of hostility. He decided to try a different tack.
“If you let me loan you the money, it won’t just help you,” he pointed out. “Morgan and Martin will keep their leases. Mrs. Ford, Tom and the new maids will still have their positions.”
Theo flushed at that, clearly embarrassed. “My tenants and staff are my responsibility, George, not yours. You have enough obligations of your own, I’m sure. As for the money, you could invest it far more profitably in a dozen other ways.”
“I don’t care about profit,” George replied hotly. “I have more than enough, and I want to do this for you. I?—”
“Well, you should care,” Theo interrupted. “That money belongs to you and your family—I doubt they’ll thank you for throwing it down the drain.”
“I wouldn’t be throwing it down the drain!” George protested. He was angry now. Why was Theo being so stubborn? “And even if I was, this is my money. I can do what the hell I like with it.”
“For God’s sake, George, ” Theo snapped. “You live two hundred miles away. You wouldn’t even be here to see how it’s spent!”
George’s face heated at Theo’s angry words. He tore his gaze away, embarrassment and hurt flooding him. He’d known he’d need to leave Blackfriars at some point, but somehow, hearing those words come out of Theo’s mouth brought home to him, as nothing else could have, that he was just someone who had drifted into Theo’s life for a while. Someone who would drift out of it again quite soon. A man whose company Theo may have enjoyed for a few weeks but whose departure he would not particularly grieve when the time came—and perhaps it had already come. Perhaps George was outstaying his welcome now? Making things awkward. Theo had never pretended that he wanted anything more from him than some temporary physical pleasure. Perhaps he was getting bored now, wishing that George would go home. Perhaps he saw George’s offer as a desperate ploy to stay longer.
That thought had his stomach twisting with humiliation, but he forced himself to stiffen his spine. Well, if that was what Theo thought, he was wrong. George wasn’t offering Theo money in the hope of getting anything from him that he didn’t want to give. He was offering it because Theo—and all the other people here—needed it. Because it was the right thing to do. So, he pushed his foolish hurt aside and said, quietly but firmly, “I wouldn’t need to be here, Theo. I know exactly what you’d be using the money for. I wrote it all down for you in my notebook.”
Theo was unmoved—was he even listening? His jaw was set in a stubborn line. “You don’t seem to understand, George. I don’t want to be beholden to you like that.”
Beholden to him?
“Why not?” George asked, wounded by the implication of those words. “Do you really think I’d hold something like that over your head? Use it against you? For what?”
“Of course not,” Theo said. “I didn’t mean that. I just—I don’t want to be beholden to anyone.”
Impatience washed over George. “That’s ridiculous.” He was getting irritated now, and it was showing in his tone. “No man is an island, however much you might wish to be one.”
Theo’s expression hardened. “We’ll have to agree to disagree on that. I’ve been something of an island for as long as I remember, and I’ll tell you this: it’s far preferable to being weighed down by constant responsibilities. I mightn’t have had a feather to fly with before Blackfriars landed in my lap, but at least I was free.”
